


Ol' Chino in Newport

by saladfingers



Category: The O.C.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 22:03:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17191133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saladfingers/pseuds/saladfingers
Summary: this is a rewrite of my previous work "Chino Branded Orange County"





	Ol' Chino in Newport

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter will be an episode. This is the pilot.
> 
> Mongognom said "Interesting, but a little too similar to canon. Would like for the au elements to be given a little more attention."
> 
> Hopefully, this'll be better.

The house is quiet aside from plastic cutlery scraping against takeaway containers. A football game plays on mute on the television in front of them. AJ rests in his recliner, swallowing the last beer in his six-pack of the day. Dawn sits on the edge of the rotted, old sofa. The cushion beside her has been eaten through by a nest of rats. Trey nudges his coke can, grating it along the wooden table in front of the couch. He sits with his back against it, on the floor. Ryan is next to him, absentmindedly checking that his can is still sat on the floor to the other side.

 

After a few more minutes of silence, AJ’s bottle hits the remote and it clatters to the floor as Trey reaches for his can. The jarring motion topples the can and Trey’s hand smacks into the table. Its legs are knocked from beneath and it crashes to the floor. Load-bearing books are scattered. In the commotion, Ryan’s can is knocked over as well. The brothers jump to their feet, and AJ meets them there. Trey blocks AJ’s warpath to his younger sibling, mouthing to him to grab his backpack. Ryan knows which one he means, and he makes a mad run to his bedroom in the back.

 

“What the hell is your damn problem, ingrate?”

 

Trey scoffs, pushing AJ’s hands off him. “You’re not our dad, Asshole.”

 

The man in question smacks him across the face. “Frank is in _prison_. Unless you plan on fucking up your life here, I’m the closest thing you got.”

 

“Yeah, and who’d wanna fuck up this sweet gig?” Trey asks rhetorically, heading out the door with his brother.

 

Trey has always been the more outspoken of the two. He grabs his baseball bat and wallet upon leaving the house. Ryan is sixteen and Trey is nineteen, but neither of them can afford a car or even have a driver’s license. They collect eighteen-year-olds Eddie and Callen and seventeen-year-old Theresa to visit the arcade and vandalize a few stores and alleys. Reaching eleven o’clock a few hours later, the group is pretty high off paint fumes. Theresa takes Callen away to have sex on the mound of a shutdown baseball diamond. Ryan follows Trey and Eddie as the boys raid a convenience store. When Eddie grabs Trey’s bat and smacks it into the cashier’s face for pressing the silent alarm, Ryan has had enough.

 

“This is shit. I’m not going down for this. Hell, I’d rather deal with AJ scamming Mom.”

 

Ryan storms out of the store and heads down the nearest dimly lit alley. Trey snatches the bat and runs after Ryan, leaving Eddie behind.

 

“Seriously? You’d rather be back in hell, shit brick?”

 

“Shove off, Trey,” Ryan grumbles without slowing down. “Where else would I go?”

 

The boys come across a gold 1977 Camaro parked on the street beside a notorious tagged wall. Trey brandishes the bat with a wicked grin. Trey cockily walks up to the driver’s window. Ryan cautiously joins him.

 

“We just robbed a damn store, Trey. You want to add a fucking car into the mix?”

 

“I’m your big brother,” Trey smirks. “If I don’t teach you this, who will?”

 

Without warning, Trey smashes the front window of the vehicle with the head of the bat, causing Ryan to jump back and partially shield himself with his jacket. Older brother lifts the lock and hops in, proceeding the hotwire it. Ryan is still nervous. He’s sure the glass smashing will attract a cop or two, especially due to the silent alarm from earlier. He opens his mouth to complain, but Trey cuts him off.

 

“Don’t be a little bitch! Get in!”

 

Ryan notices a couple cop cars arriving at the store where they’d been. He jumps into the passenger side as Trey takes off down the street. A set of lights followed by a siren tails them. Trey is taking this lightly, as a joy ride in a friend’s borrowed car. Still, Ryan trusts Trey to keep him safe. The car guns to its top speed and Ryan’s sure they may just break the sound barrier. Houses and other cars flash past at an alarming rate. Another cop joins the chase.

 

“This is a hell of a lot better, huh dude?” Trey shouts over the engine.

 

“No, no, no, no, no. We’re gonna die.” Ryan speaks lowly as they pass a red light and narrowly avoid contact with a semi-trailer.

 

Ryan clutches the door handle as if he might jump out and start running. His breathing gets shallow and he’s worried about the car actually flipping over like in the action movies he’s seen. One of the cops snags the tail end, and the stolen car slams into a wall. The cops get out of their cars, walking towards them. Trey and Ryan nearly hit each other and the windows crack, though nothing else is severely broken inside.

 

“Hands up! Get them up! On the dash where I can see ‘em. Let's go!”

 

Trey is instantly pulled from the car and arrested as it is revealed he has a warrant on him from another state. Ryan is feisty, ignoring the scattered glass shards running through his hair and along the edge of his right ear.

 

“Calm down, Kid.”

 

“Get off him!” Ryan growls in response, struggling with the two sets of arms trying to push him into the back seat of a car. “Let me go! Get the hell off him!”

 

Shortly after, Ryan is tossed into the juvenile delinquency center. Dressed in his jumpsuit and taken to a holding block, Ryan broods. He avoids eye contact with anyone he remotely recognizes from the streets. Overnight, he unintentionally makes an enemy in an inmate called Hopper.

 

“Hey, when I talk to you, I expect an answer.”

 

“I don’t talk much.” Ryan shrugs.

 

Hopper takes this as an insult and shoves the newcomer to the floor. A few others gang up on him, but a guard is on the scene before Ryan can throw his first punch. The night in the center is a restless one. Most nights are restless nights unless he’s over at Eddie’s. Or Theresa’s. Or Callen’s. The next morning, Hopper smacks Ryan’s breakfast tray to the floor. When Ryan doesn’t say anything but instead shoves Hopper away, the newcomer receives a left black eye. About an hour later, Ryan is being walked to the visiting room, handcuffed. A middle-aged man sits at the table, doing paperwork when Ryan gets there. The teen silently takes him in as a guard unlocks the cuffs.

 

“Hi, Ryan.” The man extends his hand. “Sandy Cohen. The court's appointed me your public defender.”

 

“Why the hell are you _really_ here?” Ryan narrows his eyes. “P.I. or something?”

 

“Ryan, I just told you. I’m your public defender.”

 

The teenager scoffs. “What now? You ask how I’m doing then cut me a deal?”

 

Sandy looks a bit uncomfortable and elaborates. “Look, Ryan, I’ve been going over your papers. This is your first time in lockup. I'm assuming you don't plan on coming back. Your grades…are not great.”

 

“No shit.”

 

“But your test scores are in the ninety-eighth percentile.” Sandy ignores Ryan’s snide comment. “Are you thinking about college?”

 

Ryan snorts. “Fuck college.”

 

Sandy frowns at the pessimistic attitude. “Have you given any thought at all to your future? Dude. I'm on your side. Come on, help me out here.”

 

“I don’t need your fucking help. I get it. Trey’s going away, and I’m stuck in my own personal hellhole. Maybe I’ll graduate and wind up in construction. Maybe I’ll get killed tomorrow.”

 

Sandy sighs. “Look, I can plead this down to a misdemeanor. Petty fine, probation. But know this; stealing a car ‘cause your big brother told you to, it's stupid, and it's weak, and those are two things you can't afford to be anymore.” Ryan rolls his eyes, and Sandy presses on. “Do you want to change that? Then you have to get over the fact that life dealt you a bad hand. I get it. We're cut from the same deck, Ryan. I grew up, no money, bad part of the Bronx.”

 

“I don’t give a shit about your childhood and your life, okay? And I don’t need your help.”

 

“My office will contact you to remind you of the date for your hearing.”

 

A few hours later, Ryan is handed his things in a box. Sandy is still in his car out front, which Ryan notices. The teenager shoves all his things into his backpack and lights up a cigarette as he and his newly obtained parole officer wait for his ride. The teenager is leaning against a post when a high-flying car comes to a screeching halt by jumping the curb.

 

“Unbelievable! What kind of family I got, huh?” A very disheveled Dawn calls out from the driver’s seat. “What the hell did I do to deserve this family? You want to tell me that?”

 

For the most part, Ryan isn’t too bothered by the shouting. There’s been enough of it at the house in the past few years. Sandy, disturbed by her parenting from the sidelines, decides to intervene.

 

“Mrs. Atwood? I'm Sandy Cohen. Ryan's attorney.”

 

Dawn puts up her hand. “You should've let him rot in there. Just like his dad's doing. Just like his brother's gonna. Let's go Ryan.” The teenager only glares between the adults and his mom raises her voice. “Now, Ryan.”

 

Ryan shrugs the backpack to his arm, and Sandy makes his move. “I'm going to give you my card. My home number. If you need somebody, if things get to be too much, call me.”

 

The teen grabs the card and stuffs it into his jeans pocket with a cigarette pack. He into the car, which speeds off before he shuts the door. The ride home is a silent, brooding one. He doesn’t expect anything different. Once they arrive home, Dawn and Ryan go their separate ways. Dawn heads to the brandy in the kitchen, while Ryan lights another cigarette and heads for his room. There are cracks up and down the walls and in all, it is pretty bare. Thinking about hiding out somewhere again, he packs his bag with wifebeaters, jeans and a few packs of cigarettes. He tosses the bag on his mattress and heads for the kitchen. Before he can make it to the fridge, Dawn speaks up.

 

“I can't do this anymore, Ryan. I can't.”

 

Ryan freezes, detecting actual emotion in her words. “What the hell?”

 

Dawn shakes her head. “I want you out of my house. I want you out!”

 

The recliner behind him squeaks, alerting Ryan that AJ is there and awake. “Where the fuck am I supposed to go?”

 

“You heard your mother, bonehead. Get your stuff and get out.”

 

Ryan turns and glares at him. “Hey, this isn't your house, man.”

 

AJ stands with a beer-soaked sneer. “Oh, you're a tough guy now?”

 

“A.J., don't.” Dawn scolds him. “Ryan, just get out.”

 

Ryan isn’t done with his mom’s boyfriend. “Why don't you worry about your own kids, A.J? Instead of freeloading off my mom?”

 

This triggers a nerve. He steadfastly punches Ryan where the wreck had left a small gash last night. Dawn shouts out from her position in the kitchen, though she doesn’t make a move against her boyfriend or her son. Ryan goes to punch A.J., but the man hits him again, this time in the lip. It’s rough enough to cause Ryan to fall against the repaired coffee table and make it break.

 

Dawn shouts again, this time accusing Ryan of starting up trouble. The boys aren’t paying attention to her. A.J. harshly pulls Ryan’s arms behind his back and drags him out of the living room. The cigarette falls from his mouth as he struggles. A.J. unceremoniously drops him in his bedroom, spitting at him after Ryan manages a rough shove.

 

“Get the fuck out of here, faggot.” AJ derides. “No one wants you.”

 

Ryan reaches for his bag, running his sleeve over his face. Blood mixes with sweat, but the teenager decides not to do anything about it. He tosses his wallet in his backpack and shrugs his jacket on before shoving past AJ to the front of the house. He says nothing as he collects his bike from the broken front stoop and heads off down the road. Taking several shortcuts, Ryan ends up across the street from the store he’d almost robbed last night. He snags a pay phone and calls up Eddie.

 

“Fuck you, man. You Atwoods left me to the pigs, man.”

 

“C’mon, dude. A.J. kicked me out and Trey got caught.”

 

“Shit. I’m on the tracks till Monday. Call me then.”

 

“Whatever.” Ryan hangs up and calls Theresa.

 

She only snarks at him, claiming him to be a wuss because he didn’t get as high as the rest of them.

 

“What the hell?”

 

“Why wouldn’t you fuck me?” Her voice demands an answer. “I had to settle for lame ass Callen.”

 

Theresa keeps this up, letting Ryan know she holds everything to his blame. He hangs up on her and calls Callen. The latter doesn’t answer, and Ryan calls a couple other numbers he knows. When no one will help him, he curses loudly and punches the wall to the liquor store beside him until his knuckles are bruised and cut. He reaches into his pocket for a cigarette and finds the card for that defense lawyer.

 

“Fuck it.” Ryan grabs the payphone again and dials.

 

“Sandy Cohen.”

 

“It’s Ryan.”

 

“Where are you?”

 

The teen battles against hanging up and heading to the train tracks. He inwardly grins at the noticeable tone of concern in the three words. He keeps a monotonous facial expression, though, as he responds.

 

“Payphone on the corner of Central Avenue and Angora Street. By the liquor store.”

  
“On my way.”

 

Ryan bites his tongue before slamming the phone on the receiver. He picks it back up and slams it down a few more times for good measure. He then leans his bike against a nearby wall and sits on it. He watches other people pass by as he smokes another cigarette with the help of a drifter’s lighter when his locks up. He pulls a bright red spray can from a nearby bin and tags the corner alongside several other people’s graffiti. After the cigarette is nothing left but a stub, he snuffs it out, and a sleek black car pulls up.

 

 “You could do worse.” Sandy breaks the ice.

 

Ryan shrugs, gesturing to his bag and bike. Sandy lets him stash it in the trunk and the teenager silently gets in the car. They leave, Ryan watching his home getting farther and farther away. They pass Marianna Boulevard, Ryan noticing through the window of less rundown business and walls with less tagged marks. Soon, buildings fade and the air turns crisper. He had been transported to a place where technicolor doesn’t just appear in street art. He silently recalls his brother telling him stories of how they’ll live in a place like it when they save up enough money before Trey left the first time. Passing a beach, Ryan is shocked to see how clean it looks.

 

“This is a nice car.” He finally, gruffly, speaks up. “I didn't know your kind of lawyer made money.”

 

Sandy smiles at Ryan taking initiative. “No, we don't. My wife does.”

 

Ryan nods and the car falls to silence again. An hour or so later, they pull into the driveway, passing through a locked gate. Ryan frowns a little at how much difference an iron gate makes. While it had still been daylight when Ryan had left his house, it is now dark. Sandy pulls up to a mansion-sort of a house, on the edge of a driveway-within-a-driveway. As he cuts the car off, both get out to leave. Before Ryan fully opens his door, Sandy stops him.  


“Um, you know, why don't you wait here for a minute? I'll be back.”

 

Ryan only stares back, but it’s obvious that he understands. Sandy grabs the keys from the ignition as he opens his door and hesitates, realizing what he did. Ryan rolls his eyes.

 

“It's no fun if the key's in the car.”

 

Sandy sighs. He puts the key back into the ignition and exits the car. The radio deejay continues to talk about giving away T-shirts and bumper stickers to trivia questions. Ryan notices the small gesture but says nothing. Upon entering the house, Sandy finds his wife waiting up at the kitchen table.

 

“Hey, Hon. A lot of clients today?”

 

“Just two. Nothing big.” He pops his knuckles, which she catches.

 

She places a hand over his. “You only do that when you’re nervous. Spill.”

 

“I’m assigned to this new kid from Chino. He doesn’t have anywhere to go.”

 

“Where is he now? With his parents?”

 

Sandy winces slightly. “In our driveway.”

 

Her eyes grow wide in astonishment. “You brought him home? This is not a stray puppy, Sandy.”

 

“I know that, Kirsten.”

 

“I knew it was only a matter of time before you started bringing home felons.”

 

Sandy shakes his head. “Ryan is not a felon.”

 

Kirsten frowns. “Did you not meet him in jail?”

  
“Technically, I met him in the juvenile delinquency center, but it wasn't for a felony. I mean, it was, but it won't be when I'm done.”

 

She narrows her eyes and begins pacing. “You're  _endangering_  our home. Did you even think of Seth?”

 

“It's only for the  _weekend_. Just till Child Services opens on Monday…”

 

Kirsten pauses at the sink. “What if this is all a scam? What if he's just using you to case the house?”

 

Sandy declines the accusation. “He's not a criminal mastermind. He's a kid who has no one and nowhere to go. When did you become so damn cynical?”

 

Kirsten scoffs. “When did you become so self-righteous?”

 

“I've  _always_  been self-righteous. You used to find it charming.”

 

Kirsten starts walking away. “He sleeps in the pool house.”

 

“Where are you going?” He calls out, worried that she might be grabbing Seth and leaving for the night.

 

With as much dry sarcasm as she can muster, she responds, “To put my jewelry in the vault…where do you think I'm going? The boy's going to need fresh sheets and towels and a toothbrush.”

 

While the Cohens talk inside, Ryan has stepped out on the car and walked to the end of the driveway. He checks out the neighborhood, snatching a rattling matchbox from a bin at the end. He doesn’t see even a hint of graffiti. The roads are well picked up. Ryan slides a new cigarette between his lips and lights it with a match.

 

“Who are you?” A girl around his age questions. She’s standing at the end of the neighboring driveway. She’s dressed up with jewelry, a handbag, and her cell phone out.

 

“Ryan.” He replies curtly.

 

She nods. “Can I bum a cigarette?”

 

He looks at her and scoffs. Still, he sticks another stick in his mouth and lights it. Ryan walks over and hands it off, before leaning against a pillar separating the driveways.

 

“So, what are you doing here, seriously?” She asks, coughing from the smoke.

 

He takes a inhale. “Seriously? I stole a car. Crashed it. Mom was pissed off and drunk. Here I am.”

 

“So you’re their cousin from Boston, right?”

 

“Right…”

 

Sandy walks towards them, and the girl immediately puts out the cigarette. “Hi, Marissa.”

 

“Hey, Mr. Cohen. I was just meeting your nephew.”

 

Sandy smirks. “Oh. My favorite nephew. Ryan. All the way from Seattle.”

 

Ryan edges away from both of them, settling in another puff. Marissa hums, digesting the information. Sandy decides to shift the focus away from the brooding teenager.  


“So, the Cohen clan is really excited about tomorrow night’s Cooper fashion show fundraiser.”

 

“Really?” Marissa sounds skeptical. “You are?”

 

“…No.” He admits with a short laugh.

 

She laughs with him. Ryan tries to ignore them as he focuses on his smoking and stares into the distance. Sandy and Ryan watch as a glossy black Rover pulls up in front of them. A rich kid calls for Marissa to hop in, glaring over to the boys. Marissa notices and smiles at them.

 

“You should come by too, Ryan. If you don't have other plans. See ya.”

 

 Sandy nods for him. “Good night.”

 

Marissa climbs into the truck and kisses her boyfriend quickly before they leave. Ryan sighs slightly in relief. Sandy turns to him. “Let's go inside. Uh, there's no smoking in this house.”

 

 Ryan shrugs it off. “Where am I going?”

 

“Out back. To the pool house.”

 

“Fucking pool house…” He drawls under his breath before speaking louder. “I’ll go around the long way.”

 

Sandy sighs lightly. He leads Ryan around the house and into the backyard. Ryan’s eyes widen seeing the large swimming pool. Sandy shows him to the pool house, unlocking it and gesturing Ryan inside. The kid sees a blond woman with a worrisome yet concerned look on her face. A Hispanic woman is behind her, settling a blanket on a king-sized bed only a foot above the floor.  
  
“So, this is where you'll be staying, and this is the queen of the manor herself, my wife Kirsten.”  


“Hello, Ryan.” Her nose wrinkles at the smoke. “Welcome to our home. If you need anything, Rosie here can help you.”

 

He slides the cigarette across his lips. “Thanks.”

 

Sandy smiles. “We'll see you in the morning. Make yourself comfortable.”

 

Sandy, Kirsten, and Rosie exit, leaving Ryan alone in the room. Rosie has already brought his bike out of the car and it is parked to the side. There’s a much better-looking bed, several lamps that remind him of a motel they once stayed in, and several knickknacks that look like they must’ve cost a fortune lying across a glass coffee table. Ryan easily navigates to his own bathroom that looks like the size of his bedroom back with, behind the kitchen area. He tosses his bag on the floor and sets his cigarette in a potted plant by the bed. He strips to just his boxers and wifebeater and flops haphazardly onto the bed.

 

Staring at the ceiling above the bed, Ryan drifts into his thoughts. _What the hell kind of technique is this? I’ve been busted around for shit before, but… either Sandy is honestly so trusting, or he’s fucking nuts. This could be a long con, but apparently, he’s got a son. I saw that picture of the three of them slipped to his mirror in the car. Hell, that house me and Eddie broke into two years ago isn’t shit when it comes to the fucking pool house. Who the hell has their own house by the pool? What the hell does Kirsten do for a living? Rob banks? She doesn’t look much like a people person, so I doubt she’s a doctor. Don’t even know me… give me a place to sleep… damn you, A.J.…_

 

The next thing Ryan knows, he’s waking up to the intense sunlight streaking through the multifaceted windows. He runs through a quick shower, used to only having five minutes in the morning. He stares a little at the main house after realizing there’s no food in his kitchen area. Wearing only his white wifebeater, a silver choker, and his sweatpants, Ryan grabs an unlit cigarette and steps out into the sun to gaze at the rich neighborhoods below this house. He bypasses the pool for the main house’s kitchen. Opening the door, he notices a boy about his age sat on the floor and playing a video game. Their eyes meet and the boy in pajamas nods to Ryan.

 

“Hey.”  


Ryan surveys him before nodding halfheartedly. “Hey.”

 

The other boy’s eyes shift between Ryan and the television. “Do you wanna play?”

 

Ryan shrugs in response. As the Cohen boy restarts the game and plugs in a second controller, Ryan fixes himself a bowl of cereal and grabs a carton of orange juice. He brings the breakfast over and accepts a seat on the floor. He eats the cereal as the other sets up the game, but he soon finds himself oddly invested in the made-up world. An hour later, Ryan and Seth are aggressively engaged in the game.  


“XO, XO. It's an unbeatable combination. Oh! Oh! Oh…! What happened to your head, dude? Where did it go? I'm sorry. Did someone die?” With the game ended, Seth picks up another game and speaks without thinking. “Oh, hey, do you want to play Grand Theft Auto? It's pretty cool. You can, like, steal cars and…not that that's cool…or uncool. I don't know. Um…”

 

Sandy walks in, saving his son from further humiliation. “I see you two have met. Seth, what are you doing inside on this beautiful day? Why don't you show Ryan around?”

 

Seth scoffs sarcastically. “Okay, ‘cause it's  _so_   _great_  around here.”

 

Sandy makes a shooing motion to suggest that it’s not so much a recommendation. The brunette shuts off the TV and motions to Ryan. The blonde grabs the cigarette from the floor and steps over the remnants of breakfast to follow Seth outside.

 

“You ever been sailing?”

 

Ryan levels him with a glare saying _obviously not_. Seth puts up his hands in surrender. He grabs his skateboard from the back porch.

 

“Got one?”

 

After Ryan heads back to the pool house to grab his bike and lock, he follows Seth to the pier. The Cohen boy talks about the town and the places in town that he likes along the way. Ryan doesn’t say a word or even look at Seth throughout the one-sided conversation. Before too long, they arrive at the beach. Ryan hooks up his bike to the lifeguard tower. He “meets” Seth’s boat with the rainbow sail, Summer Breeze.

 

Ryan removes his shirt and opts not to wear a life jacket. Seth has one over his Polo shirt and stops trying to get Ryan to wear one at the glare he receives. It makes Seth remember that this new friend possibility was discovered in juvey after stealing and totaling a car. As the waves settle, Seth turns to the teenager currently lying on his back.

 

“You ever hear the dream speech?” Ryan merely nods without elaboration, so Seth continues. “Well, I have…this plan. Well, I don't-I don't know what you'd think but, next July, the trade winds shift west, and I want to sail to Tahiti. I can do it in forty-four days. Maybe even forty-two.”

 

Ryan nods again, this time shocked that someone his age has some _actual_ plans for his life. “Sounds cool, man.”

 

“Yeah. Just hit the high seas and catch fish right off the side of the boat. Grill them right there. Just total quiet. Solitude.” He stares off into the horizon. “Well, me and Summer.”

 

Ryan stares blankly. “You're taking a fucking  _sailboat_  to Tahiti.”

 

Seth chuckles. “Um…no. It's the girl the boat's named after.”

 

The blonde bites his lip, feeling idiotic. “She must be pretty stoked.”

 

 “She… has no idea. I've never talked to her before.”

 

The conversation dies down again. Occasionally, Seth brings up another topic. He runs his mouth through most of it, with Ryan reacting. An hour or two passes by and the boys bring the boat back to shore. Sandy is wearing board shorts and seems to have just gotten there to find them.

 

“Hey, fellas. I thought we'd head over to the fashion show at about seven.”

 

Seth scoffs. “Yeah, have fun.”

 

“Come on. It's a whole new school year, Seth.”

 

Seth glares ineffectively. “It's also the same  _kids_ , Dad. Why do they even need a fashion show? Every day's a fashion show for these people.”

 

Sandy brushes his hands together. “Yeah, well, Ryan  _has_  to go. Marissa invited him.”

 

Seth looks shocked as he faces Ryan. “ _Marissa_  invited you? I've lived next door to Marissa since, like, forever. Her dad almost got married to my mom even and, like, she's never even invited me to a birthday.”

 

Sandy shakes his head in denial. “That is not true. They did not almost get married.”

 

“I’m not going.” Ryan cuts in.

 

“But Marissa invited you.” Sandy points out. “It’d be rude to not show up after being invited.”

 

“She did not invite me.” Ryan counters. “She said I _could_ go if I wanted. I don’t want to go.”

 

Sandy sighs, realizing he has no power over him. Instead, he turns to his own son. “Seth, be ready by seven.”

 

“Ugh. Fine. I don’t have to wear a suit, do I?”

 

While the boys are busy on the beach, Marissa is reading Cosmo and talking to Summer on the phone at her house. When the doorbell rings, she puts her best friend on hold and answers the door to three men in suits. The man in the middle takes off his hat and steps forward.

 

“Hello, again.”

 

“My dad's not here.”

 

“And when can we expect him?”

 

Marissa shrugs. “I don't know. I don’t care.”

 

“Mm-hmm.” The man doesn’t look like he buys it. “Well, then, when you see your father, please remind him again how much we'd like to talk. Let me leave you another one of my cards. Have a good day.”

 

He hands her a card and the two men leave. She inspects the card as she closes the door and walks back to where she dropped the phone.

 

“Got to go, Summ. Boiler Hat’s after my dad again.”

 

“Boo.” The girl on the other end complains. “See you at the fashion show, Bitch.”

 

Marissa hands up and walks into her father's home office, handing the card over to him.

 

“Hey. Thanks, kiddo.” Her dad, Jimmy, takes the card knowingly. “I just didn't have time to deal with those guys right now.”

 

“You going to tell me who they are?” Jimmy opens his mouth and Marissa adds on. “And don’t tell me they’re The Man.”

 

“It’s just a…just a thing with a…with a client. Nothing for you to worry about, okay? You’ve got a show to worry about.”

 

“Right.” She chirps, examining the back of her hand. “I need some strawberry nails immediately.”

 

At six o’clock, Sandy taps on the glass of the pool house door. Ryan is lying on his bed, smoking another and reading a book he’s found lying around the small residence. He walks in holding up a tie when Ryan glances up to him.

 

“Sure you’re not going?”

 

Ryan glares at him unenthusiastically. “I’m sure.”

 

Sandy nods but still walks inside and sits on the edge of the bed. “So, you got to hang out with Seth. How was that? Was that…? Was that all right? He's an interesting kid if you get to know him.”

 

Ryan sits up and leans against the headboard. He takes another inhale before finally meeting Sandy’s eyes. “He’s cool.”

 

Sandy almost looks surprised. “Cool, huh? Alright. How about you come with us? You don’t need to go in.”

 

“Why do you want me to go so bad?” Ryan questions him, bordering on suspicion.

 

“Stop me if I’m overstepping boundaries here, but don’t you want to do something more with your life than… whatever you were doing in Chino?”

 

“What, _getting in fights, graffiti art, and smoking pot?”_

 

Sandy groans. “Not what I meant, Ryan.”

 

With Sandy trying to convince Ryan to join him and Seth, thirteen-year-old Kaitlin Cooper is waiting for her nails to dry and her mom Julie is putting on her lipstick next door.

 

“Oh, Mom, do you like my nails?” She shows off her ladybug nails.

 

“Oh, I love them, Kaitlin. Do you like my hair this straight or is it too Avril Lavigne?”

 

“Looks fine, Mom.” Marissa answers for her sister as she walks down the stairs with her hair pulled back.

 

The woman turns around with a false smile, register trademarked for the Newport Press. “Oh, Marissa, you look…” She takes in her oldest daughter’s dress and makeup but stops when she gets to the hair. “Oh honey, I thought you were going to wear your hair down. Pulled back like that, it's a little harsh on your angles.”

 

Marissa scoffs, grabbing the car keys. “Whatever. Let’s go. And that hair makes you look like Gwen Stefani.”

 

Julie looks over to Kaitlin for help. “Is that a compliment?”

 

Kaitlin shakes her head in dismissal. She offers her mom a look of condolence before heading out the door with her dad and older sister. The Cohens minus Ryan arrive at the fashion show, held at a Newpsie’s house, at seven o’clock on the dot. The party is already flourishing, as Seth heads to the back. A waiter greets them with a silver tray of a selection of appetizers.

 

“Mushroom, leek crescent? Crab and brie phyllo?”

 

Over the course of just half an hour, several women come up to ask Seth about his new houseguest. They hear that Ryan’s the cousin from Boston, Seattle, and even Canada. They wonder about the cold and the depression. Seth gets really tired of it, really quickly. He slips away and heads somewhere he doesn’t think he’ll be noticed: the open bar. After asking for a Sprite in a martini glass, he turns and comes face to face with Ryan.

 

“Do my eyes deceive me?”

 

“Ha, ha.” Ryan rolls his eyes, taking a drink from his glass.

 

“Whatcha got there, man?”

 

The blonde shrugs. “Seven and Seven.”

 

“Can I try some?”

 

Ryan only answers with a patented Atwood glare. Seth backs off.

 

“Fine, fine. I’m going to the pool.”

 

Ryan shrugs and Seth follows along with what he’s just said. Marissa’s boyfriend, Luke, is there hanging out with his friends on the water polo team.

 

“Hey, Luke. What's up?”

 

“Hey!” Luke calls out sardonically. “Yeah. Suck it, queer.”

 

Luke starts to walk away but bumps into Ryan, who had overheard the little conversation. Seth doesn’t mind the jock’s comments, now staring longingly at the girl he loves from afar.

 

“Summer's right over there. Look. I'm sorry. Wait. Don't look don't look. But I mean you can look, but don't look like you're looking.”

 

Ryan rolls his eyes at Seth’s overcomplications. He identifies Sandy within an incoming crowd and slips away. Seth looks around when his dad suddenly shows up.

 

“Hey, dad.”

 

“Is that Summer?” He points to the girl talking with Marissa by the stage.

 

“You know, um, I'm going to, uh, sit,” Seth mumbles and walks away. To the kiddie table.

 

Marissa voice soon rings out as she comes onstage, talking into the microphone. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you all so much for coming. Every year, we put on a fashion show to raise money for the battered women shelter. It's such a good cause, you guys, and we couldn't do any of it without your support and the support of Fashion Island and all their great stores. All right, enjoy the show!”

 

Marissa walks off stage just as Summer comes out, walking down the runway in her designer dress.

 

Seth moans quietly to himself. “She's got Tahiti written all over her.”

 

The models continue coming down the runway. Marissa is backstage, fixing her makeup in the bathroom. A woman comes in and tells Marissa she's on in five minutes. A few seconds later, Summer comes in with two wine glasses filled with champagne.

 

“Look what I stole.”

 

Marissa, in turn, holds up a nearly full bottle of champagne. “Look what I stole.”

 

Summer gasps excitedly. “Score! Here.”

 

The girls clink glasses, and each takes a few sips. Before too long, Marissa is on the runway. She stops at the end and poses. Marissa takes note of Ryan’s attendance and smiles at him, rather than Luke. Her boyfriend notices her gaze trail away from him, and he follows her line of sight with a frown. Ryan barely notices and keeps drinking his alcohol near the bar.

 

At the adults’ table, Sandy nudges Jimmy. “I think you spent more on that dress than I make in a year.”

 

One of the men that had come to the house earlier walks up. “That's why we trust him with our money. I expect to die a very rich man, Jimmy.”

 

Sandy shrugs. “Well, you're bound to be half right.”

 

Jimmy begins to look uncomfortable, and Kirsten notices. “You okay, Jimmy?”

 

“Yeah. It's just uh, just…it's a little stuffy in here. I'm going to get some fresh air, okay?”

 

He gets up and leaves, with Julie talking about how she made Marissa wear stiletto Manolos instead of Prada Mary Janes. Ryan has since made himself scarce. He’s hanging out in the driveway, smoking another cigarette. Summer and her friend Holly walk up to him.

 

“Hey. Where you going? My friend, Holly…well, her parents are letting use their beach house as a gift, you know, ‘cause of all our hard work for charity. If you need a ride…or…anything. I'm Summer.” 

 

Summer walks away without letting Ryan say a word. He wanders down the driveway, depositing his glass in the back of an open trunk. Seth jogs to meet up with him.

 

“Hey, I’ll see you at home?”

 

Ryan shrugs. “I’m heading to another thing.”

 

“A thing?” Seth raises an eyebrow. “A beach party? Whose?”

 

“Holly’s.”

 

“Dude!” Seth grins. “That’s awesome! Who’s taking you?”

 

Ryan points to a crowded jeep, and Seth instantly IDs Summer as one of the teenagers inside. He playfully slaps Ryan’s arm.

 

“Dude, we are _so_ in!”

 

Seth sends a quick text to his dad that he’ll be home late, and he races to the jeep. Ryan follows at a lackadaisical speed. The jeep starts moving and they leave. In less than a half hour, the jeep pulls up and the teenagers file out to the raging party. Ryan walks in with Seth close behind. Ryan lets a little smile slip out, as this party makes him feel more at home.

 

“Welcome to the dark side.”

 

Ryan takes in the sight before him. Teens snorting cocaine on the bookshelf; girls in skimpy bikinis trashing the kitchen; a fire started in a tin trash can. He grabs two Red Solo Cups filled halfway with undiscernible alcohol and hands one off to Seth before ditching him. About ten minutes later, Marissa shows up and falls into conversation with her best friend over a new purse.

 

Marissa subtly adds more champagne into her drink as the girls gush over him. Summer announces she’s going to play him hot and cold before proclaiming her need to pee. All three get up to the bathroom, and Ryan notices Luke standing next to a girl that is not his girlfriend. The ditzy girl blathers on about the “beautiful beach” and Luke suggests they go check it out together. Ryan scoffs into his drink. _Some things you can’t escape…_

 

Seth searches the house to relieve his bladder. When he finally finds a bathroom, there are two girls and a guy using the bathtub for other purposes. Seth backs away and closes the door, deciding he can just relieve himself outside where no one will see. He does so when the guy at the keg screams for everyone to get naked.

 

On the patio, Marissa slides up to Ryan. He has a cup in his hand and a lit cigarette in his mouth. “Hey.”

 

Ryan nods, leaning against the side of the house. Marissa shuffles a little closer.

 

“So, what do you think of Newport?”

 

“I think I can get in less trouble where I'm from.” He answers, taking a swig of his drink.

 

Holly, reduced to her bikini and a shawl calls out to Marissa to deal the cards. There are a few others sat around the table wearing little to nothing. Marissa grabs Ryan’s cup to take a sip with a smirk. She hands it back, but he doesn’t take it as they part ways. Seth sots by the empty keg about an hour later. Ryan steals someone’s lighter from their jeans when Summer finds him and nearly crashes him into the pool.

 

“Look…who I found.” She spills her drink on him, laughs and starts wiping it off. “Oops. I'm wasted.” She starts hanging onto him. “So, what's your name anyway?”

 

Disgusted by the display, Ryan shoves her off him without a response. She collapses on the ground by the pool, and Ryan heads to the driveway. Seth cuts him off.

 

“Hey, man. Have you seen Summer?”

 

“Piss drunk.” Ryan removes his cigarette and uses it to point toward the pool.

 

“Shit.” He frowns. “So much for my first beach party. Alright. Let’s go home.”

  

Stepping into the house, two teens from the school’s water polo team start pushing Seth around.

 

“Go home, geek.”

 

“Yeah. Who invited you, Pussy?”

 

“You guys really wouldn't hurt me, because that would be so clichéd.” When they pick him up, he retracts the statement. “I guess you're fans of the cliché.”

 

“Shut up.” The taller of the duo sneers.

 

Ryan approaches them. “Hey, hey! Put him down! Put him down.” When the guys stare back, Ryan growls. “Put him down.”

 

Luke walks over. “Hey, what's up, dude? You got a problem?”

 

“You tell me.”

 

Luke steps closer to Ryan and pushes him. Ryan instantly punches him, and Luke falls to the ground. He gets back up and shoves Ryan to the ground, and they start fighting. After one of the other guys joins in, Seth is dropped to the floor. Seth pulls a player away and the guy punches Seth, with him also falling to the ground. Luke's friend pulls Ryan away and Luke kicks him in the groin.

 

With Ryan folded over in pain, Luke barks at him. “Welcome to the O.C., bitch. This is how it's done in Orange County.”

 

Not having a ride of some sort, Seth manages to flag down a taxi. The boys silently ride back in an uncomfortable silence. They’ve got some alcohol in their systems and cuts on their faces. They’re bruised, and anytime Seth looks over, Ryan glares at him with almost full force. They walk into the pool house, and Ryan quietly shuts the door so as not to alarm the other Cohens. Ryan slumps onto his bed.

 

“You look like you want to hit someone. What would you do if you were… you know, in Chino?”

 

Ryan removes his jacket and shirt so he’s just in his wifebeater. “Work out my left hook on the wall.”

 

“Ahh… wouldn’t do that here. Glass walls.” Seth senses Ryan’s glaring without looking over. “Maybe you’d do something else that _doesn’t_ require punching?”

 

“Tag the wall.”

 

Seth, on the couch, speaks up in a wavering voice. “Well, I…I don't know what to say…except that you totally had my back out there. We're, like, in a fight club or something. I don't know. You know what I think? Ryan, I think that if you were to teach me some moves, I think that we could totally take ‘em next time. That's what I think. Give them some of that,” he kicks the floor.

 

Ryan stares back and Seth prattles on. “You know what I'm saying? And a little bit of that and that,” he kicks the air twice. “What do you think about that?” He clasps his hands. “Yeah. Oh also, that wasn't exactly the way that I first planned to talk to Summer, but I am now on her radar. Do you think I should tell her about Tahiti? Do you?”

 

Ryan has cooled down a bit, now onto removing his belt. “Not yet.”

 

Seth seems a little perturbed by Ryan’s stripping, but it may be the foreign alcohol that keeps him from saying anything. “That's what I thought. That's what I was thinking. I wanted to make sure, we were on the same page.”

 

Ryan tosses some pillows to Seth for the couch to sleep on. The brunette yawns, promising Ryan that he’ll never forget the help. Just as Seth begins to doze off, he and Ryan hear car doors. They blearily step onto the balcony to see Summer and Holly carrying Marissa to her house. The boys can’t hear the girls talking, though it’s easy to figure that they’re drunk and giggling. Marissa, on the other hand, has drunk too much and is completely trashed.

 

Ryan and Seth exchange looks as the girls fall to the ground and start laughing. Summer grabs Marissa's purse and starts digging through it. Summer throws the purse aside and stands up. The girls leave Marissa lying on the cement. Ryan and Seth, having seen everything, go to where she is after a quick glance shared between them. Ryan grabs her purse, searching. He then turns to Seth with a questioning glance.

 

“Can’t find her keys. Patio door open?”

 

Seth shrugs. “Yeah, but Mom might be waiting up.”

 

Ryan nods. “Go check.”

 

Seth looks between the house and the teens. Finally, he sighs with a nod. Ryan gathers Marissa’s purse and weighs her head against his chest. He situates his grip on the underside of her arms, and Seth returns.

 

“Not up.”

 

“Grab her legs. We’re taking her to the living room.”

 

“Why?”

 

Ryan glares. “Because we’re not leaving her here and there’s no room in the pool house unless she sleeps beside one of us.”

 

Seth obeys, and they quietly take Marissa inside the house and to the couch. Ryan hovers over her for a second before covering her with a blanket and staring at her.  _She has some seriously shitty friends,_  Ryan thinks as he and Seth return to the pool house. Seth doesn’t bother changing clothes aside from loosening his tie as he gives Ryan a halfhearted handshake and collapses. Ryan changes to his boxers as he falls asleep on the bed without thinking too much about it. It’s the first good night’s rest he’s had in a long time. He wakes up, not only to the sunlight, but also Kirsten standing at the door.

 

“Thank God you’re alive.” She scoffs between Ryan and Seth. Her son waves slightly. “What happened to your face?”

 

“Mmhmm. I got into a fight.”

 

“With who? Why?”

 

“I don't really know. I don't really remember. Um…I was really drunk.” He confesses. “Yeah, I think I still am a little bit.”

 

“Let's go. House. Now.” She drags him off the couch and to the door.

 

Seth has no choice but to comply. He calls out to Ryan as he leaves. “Later!”

 

The blonde blearily waves. He never sleeps well, but he actually did last night. He wanders to his bathroom wearing only his boxers. He flushes his face out before peeing and taking a shower. During which, he briefly lets his mind think about whether or not the Cohens saw Marissa on their couch. He pulls on a pair of thin sweatpants and checks out the small fridge. There’s nothing in there and he makes a mental note to stock up on cereal. Sandy gets home from his morning surf about two hours later, and Kirsten is still stewing from this morning. She catches him in the driveway, with him excitedly ranting about six-foot waves. She cuts him off.

 

“Seth got into a fight.”

 

Sandy looks shocked. “A physical fight?”

 

“This is what happens when you let someone like this into our house. When we let out son hang out with criminals.”

 

“Well, at least he has someone to hang out with. Don't salt his game, honey.”

 

Kirsten throws up her hands exasperatedly. “What the hell does that mean?”

 

“I-I…It…I don't know.” He stammers. “I just know that I'd rather have Seth hanging out with Ryan than some trust fund kid from around here who only cares about getting a new Beemer every year. There's a whole world outside this Newport Beach bubble.”

 

Sandy and Kirsten continue in this fashion. She reminds him that Ryan has his own parents and his own home back in Chino. He points out that when they got together they promised they wouldn’t be like their parents. She, of course, gets offended. She recaps to him what he is: a public defender, not a friend. When Kirsten returns to the kitchen, Ryan is standing at the sink. He’s apathetically eating a piece of toast and staring out the window. 

 

_She’s back, and she’s not yelling. If that gives any notion from past experiences, Kirsten must be pissed off. She won’t want me to endanger her son anymore. It’s not like I’ve unpacked anything. I’ll pay back my bowls of cereal, grab my bag and head off. I can ride my bike by the railroad tracks. Eddie’ll be back on Monday, and I can stay with him for a few days. Then jump around a little. It’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll visit Mom first. Check up on her when AJ’s not around._

 

“Look, Ryan,” Her voice breaks in on his thoughts. “I don't mean to play bad cop. It's nothing personal…” Ryan walks over to the stove to shift something with a spatula. “Is that bacon?”

 

Ryan nods. “I usually make breakfast at my house. My mom's not much of a cook, so…”

 

Kirsten sighs. “I'm sorry. You seem like a really nice kid.”

 

Ryan cuts off the oven and walks over to his bag sitting on the kitchen aisle. He drops the bacon off at the dining table. “It's okay. I get it. You have a really nice family.”

 

He nods to her and heads to the front door. At the last minute, he walks upstairs. Selecting the open door with sci-fi and Death Cab posters, Ryan walks in and knocks on the wall. Seth is lying on his stomach on his bed when Ryan walks over.

 

“Gotta jet.”

 

Seth rolls over, frowning. “You’re already leaving?”

 

Ryan stares back. “Got shit to work out at home.”

 

Seth stands up, wringing his hands. “Okay Well…cool. Or…not cool, but, you know…what I think I mean.”

 

Ryan holds out his hand to shake like he’s closing a deal. Seth shakes his head and pulls Ryan in for a hug. Somehow, even though it hasn’t been familiar for years, it feels like _this_ is Ryan’s home. He feels comfortable here. He hesitantly pats Seth’s back.

 

Pulling away, Seth keeps up. “I'll come down to Chino. You know, I'll visit you and you can show me your world. Or your hood or…”

 

Seth laughs nervously as though Ryan were his best friend for years moving away. Ryan nods uncertainly and turns to leave. Seth calls after him.

 

“I _will_ see you later, right?”

 

 Ryan shrugs, shifting his backpack. “Sure, man.”

 

Ryan heads downstairs, ambiguously aware of two sets of eyes trained on him. Seth had followed him and is watching from the corner by the top of the stairs. Kirsten is watching from the wall separating the living room and the kitchen. Ryan grabs a twenty from his jacket pocket, leaving it on the table by the front door. Closing said door behind him, Ryan meets Sandy by the car.

 

They back out of the driveway and Marissa is dressed for a date and waiting in her own driveway. She watches as they drive past her, and Ryan turns back to watch her as he leaves. Luke pulls up to pick up Marissa and Ryan turns back around in his seat. The scenery passes by in silence. It takes a lot less time, in Ryan’s mind, for Sandy to pull up in front of Ryan's rickety house in Chino. Ryan’s mattress is thrown out for garbage pickup, but he pays it no mind. He grabs his bag from the back and turns to face the dashboard while talking to Sandy.

 

“So, thanks.”  _For bailing me out. For giving me a place for the night. For letting me experience normality._  “For everything.”

 

Sandy nods reassuringly. “I'm going to make sure everything works out, Ryan.”

 

Together, they get his bike out of the trunk and Ryan starts walking up the pavement. The teenager half-waves, not wanting any more help since he won’t get any inside the house.

 

“I got it, man.”

 

Sandy nods but doesn’t leave the curb by the car. Ryan walks up and drops his bike on the porch and unlocks the door. He opens it to find all the furniture is gone. He drops off his bag in the kitchen in a mix of surprise and anger. Dawn and her boyfriend have moved out, leaving only a note scribbled on the back of a napkin on the counter. Sandy walks into the house and sees that no one else is there. With Ryan looking lost and abandoned, Sandy puts an arm over Ryan’s shoulder.

 

“Come on. Let's go.”

 

Ryan blinks and picks up his bag. He and Sandy leave the house together. Sandy grabs Ryan’s bike, placing it back in the trunk, as Ryan takes the passenger seat and they drive back to Newport Beach.


End file.
